#abigatorfrenzy

[sunxking]

abigatorfrenzy

  H E A D C A N O N  |  Aftermath So, here’s the...

MY FUCKING HEART ��������

{{ whoops, i killed another one }}

[steven-your-fossa]

Just had an AMAZING movie night with abigatorfrenzy! We watched Inception which I’ve never seen before and it was incredible! We also did the Beanboozled Challenge which she may or may not put up later :)

[havetardiswilltimetravel]

sherlockscarf reblogged your post and added:

*BIG hugs!*

abigatorfrenzy replied to your post “some person online this afternoon called me a despicable shitty person...”

Love you <3

frek replied to your post “some person online this afternoon called me a despicable shitty person...”

*HUGS YOU SO TIGHT* I'm sorry people are assholes and that you're having trouble, bb. <3333

[galtori]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Alright! I've finished up my Gatsby!lock, after a whole lot of fussing on my part. Hope everyone enjoys it!

[galtori]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Also, I published the first five chapters of my Gatsby!lock, as promised. Should have the other two up by tomorrow!

[almostcanon]

Mycrofts's umbrella???

The most important character in the show, arguably!

Mycroft's Umbrella is now taken.

Join my Sherlock Family? Blacklist Kelly's SF.

[galtori]

Chapter 3!

The next morning, John woke early and got ready. No one had bothered him that night, so he supposed that Sherlock hadn't found any work. John wasn't sure if he should be glad about that or not. He got ready and brought a bag with him, packing his swimming suit. He repeated his appearance from last night, limping around to the front. A different servant answered the door today, but when he stated his name, he was shown into a large dinning hall and his bag was taken, presumably to a coat rack room. Ten minutes later, Sherlock showed up. Just as he set down, several servants came out bearing different dishes. "I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I made sure to have them cook several different dishes. I apologize for my tardiness, I stayed up later after the party." "I can't imagine what you were doing, Mr. Holmes," John answered amicably as he tucked into a lovely quiche and some waffles. "Oh please, call me Sherlock. Mr Holmes ages me." Sherlock stood and began taking something from each of the different plates. John had all but smack the other man with a spoon to keep Sherlock from taking all the crepes. "Oy, save some for me. And I don't see how you keep such a small frame if you eat like that," John remarked as Sherlock finally settled down to eat. "Dr. Watson, what you see is very atypical of me. However, I am not working today, therefore I am famished." Sherlock then poured them both tea, which John gratefully accepted. "Now now. That is hardly fair." A small smile quirked Sherlock's lips. "Very well, John. But when I am working, I dislike eating. My mind becomes the focus of what I do. Everything else is transport." With that, he tucked into some eggs. They stayed in companionable silence for maybe 10 minutes an older woman entered the dining room. "Good morning Sherlock. I'm glad to see that the mess was cleaned up as always. Oh, and you have such a large breakfast in front of you. I'm glad about that too. Oh, hello," the woman finally turned her attention to John. "You must be the fellow Sherlock mentioned earlier this morning." "I didn't see Sherlock meet anyone else last night, so it must be me. John Watson," he introduced himself, shaking the woman's hand as she helped herself to breakfast. "I'm Mrs. Hudson. I technically own this estate, but Sherlock has been good enough to give it life lately." With that she settled down to eat near Sherlock, and the three continued breakfast in comfortable silence.

After breakfast, Sherlock took John to tour most of the bottom floor. Mrs. Hudson joined them long enough to get to her own room, where they parted ways. As it turned out, that was one of the few rooms guests weren't allowed in during Sherlock's parties. They also passed the ballroom, which held a handsome organ that was played by the supposed heir of Mozart, if the grapevine was to be believed. Sherlock insisted that he was, though he was not the closest heir. Apparently there was a second that Sherlock hadn't found yet. And of course, that person, whomever he or she was, would be welcome to the residence to play. John quietly chuckled as Sherlock spoke of plans for sonatas and concertos. A great deal of it flew right over his head, but Sherlock always managed to keep him just enough in the loop, adding details and explanations whenever the doctor grew too confused. After a tour of the downstairs, they took in parts of the upstairs, and one of the towers. John had never seen so many books in the same building his whole life, and that included every library he had ever known. None of them came close to the Holmes residence. Sherlock also provided a good deal of stimulating conversation. Apparently, they had both served in the English military around the same time, though John hadn't recognized Sherlock's division. At that moment, a manservant came into the room, announcing that a police chief had arrived. Sherlock sat up and set his tea aside before responding. “At last,” he whispered, then raised his voice. “Send him in at once.” Now he turned his attention back to John. “This is what I do.” But before John could ask any questions, the a man came into the room. The man was dressed in the easily recognized blue police uniform. John would place him in his 40's, with signs of graying hair. The man gave John a strange look before focusing his attention on Sherlock. "You have a case." Sherlock stated, staring out a nearby window at the bay. "There's been a fourth suicide. This one left a note," the man replied. John remembered glancing at the paper before he left his cottage and remembered seeing an article about a string of suicides. "You're talking about the three suicides that were in the news? The ones that people are starting to think are linked?" John spoke, wishing to confirm his suspicions. "Will you come, Mr. Holmes?" The man asked, ignoring John in favor of Sherlock. "To answer your question, Dr. Watson, yes. And to ask you another, would you like to see my work?" Sherlock asked, and John had to blink. "You would want me to come with you?" "You are an exprienced army doctor. A second medical opinion wouldn't hurt," Sherlock casually told him. John glanced at the man in the doorway again, who seemed to be watching the entire exchange with an intense interest. "Why not? I don't know how much stranger my day could get," John finally relinquished. His sister would insist that he really had gone mad. "Very well then, Captain Lestrade. We will join you. Give me a moment to gather my things and inform Mrs. Hudson, and we will join you outside." With that, Captain Lestrade turned and walked back the way he came. Once the man left hearing range, Sherlock jumped into the air, giving a small whoop of jubilation. "Come along, Dr. Watson! We have a case today!" With that, the man almost bounded from the room, John limping on his cane to keep up. The pair then went to Mrs. Hudson's room. John arrived in time to see her emerge. "Mrs. Hudson, I don't know when I'll be back. There's been a fourth suicide. There's a serial killer in New York! Leave something for John and me tonight.” “I'm not your housekeeper,” the woman insisted. “And it isn't right for you to be so happy, dashing about like this because of murders.” But the woman was chuckling and straightening Sherlock's coat. “Who cares, Mrs Hudson?” Sherlock asked enthusiastically. “The game is on!” He shouted jovially, then kissed the matron on the cheek before dashing out the front of the house. John tipped his head towards Mrs Hudson and limped after Sherlock. Today would definitely be interesting.

[galtori]

Whoops!

Finally, they were sitting downstairs in the organ room with two glasses of champagne, analyzing the drunken fools passed out or too drunk to notice either of them, noting who slept with who, who had how much to drink, and other various ‘deductions’ or so Sherlock called them. Mostly it was John guessing and getting things horribly wrong before Sherlock would step in and correct him. But after guessing at least one thing about each person, some of the hired help came in and began to clear out all the drunken fools, most likely into cabs.

“Well,” John drained the last of his drink. “I think they’re going to start herding us out of here. So I will part here and bid you goodnight, Sherlock. Perhaps we can meet up some time later.” Sherlock chuckled.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we have no need to move,” he replied, completely relaxed and at ease. “Carry on, but allow this man to stay,” he addressed the working men, pointing at John. “He is my neighbor, and any request he makes of you should be treated as a request from me.” The two men turned to Sherlock, looked at John, and then nodded before turning back to their business.

Neighbor. He is my neighbor. John thought had seen it all tonight, but apparently it was the night for John Watson to be wrong about everything.

“Yes, I am your neighbor,” Sherlock’s voice brought him out of his near-stupor, and it wasn’t until then that John realized he had spoken aloud. He turned to see Sherlock analyzing him over the rim of his champagne glass, a small smirk playing at the edge of his lips.

“I told you I was looking for you,” was all that John could say. Perhaps it was rude, but John felt a little tricked.

“You never asked what my last name was, nor did you ask if I had seen Mr. Holmes. Though most ordinary people would have introduced themselves properly,” he conceded. After a few more moments, Sherlock began again. “If I have offended you by not addressing this, I do apologize. I meant no offense.” If it had been any other person speaking, John wouldn’t have believed them. But something about Sherlock’s posture, more rigid than before, and his tone, more hesitant than John had heard all night, made Sherlock’s point better than his words. John waved off the apology.

“I’m more curious about why you didn’t tell me who you are,” John stated. At that, Sherlock sat up.

“I wanted to get to know you better and show you around. I also needed to make sure you weren’t boring like the others,” Sherlock explained, almost as if it were obvious. “Either way, if you wish to come back tomorrow during the day, I can show you the rest of the house.”

“So you would just open your house up to a complete stranger?” It wasn’t that John was ungrateful, but he was shocked that a man of Sherlock’s wealth would open his house so easily to a stranger. Wasn’t he concerned about the things John could do?

“I have no concern about you stealing anything from the house. I would know the instant that thought crossed your mind. You’re more concerned about someone stealing from me than you are getting caught, that much I can tell from your face. My security is good enough that I have no concern about any unwanted fellows wandering in and stealing anything, and I would know if a new staff member showed up.” John opened his mouth to argue the point of the parties, but Sherlock moved to still him for a moment longer. “And that is also why I watch all of my guests leave the party. I will know the instant they try to steal anything of value. You have no cause for concern, and I know you well enough to trust you.” Sherlock gave John a strange look at the last statement before continuing. “And besides, I may need a consulting physician in my line of work.”

“You still haven’t specified what that is. If I’m going to consult you in it, I feel that I should know what it is.” John wasn’t one to put his foot down often, but when he did, it was on important things. And he was an honest man; he wouldn’t do dishonest work.

“Come by tomorrow, and I hopefully I will be able to show you. If work shows up before then, I will send one of my men or come by and wake you myself.” John gave a confused look at the timetable. What sort of work didn’t show up at a scheduled time? And the possibility of coming in the middle of the night? Who worked such ridiculous hours? “Though perhaps night time may not be the best time for you to learn about my work.” After a moment of consideration, Sherlock straightened again. “If it is an eight, I will come and fetch you myself. For five through seven, I will send one of my men. I would not bother you with anything less than a five.” Sherlock then nodded to himself, pleased with the amendment, though it meant nothing to John. “Regardless, you are welcome to come by tomorrow to see the rest of the house. I dare say that the beach is beautiful this time of year, should you wish to bring swimming trunks with you.” It had been over two years since John had relaxed at the beach, though he was still unsure of his knee and shoulder.

“I think I shall come by tomorrow. If it turns out to be anything like this evening, I would be a fool not to pursue such excitement when it is only just next door,” John finally conceded. His sister would think him queer, seeking this much excitement as an old soldier still haunted by his memories on the battlefield, or so the army physician said in his discharge papers. But at the moment, he didn’t care what his sister thought.

“Very well, Doctor Watson. Tomorrow it is,” Sherlock agreed. But as he limped down the front steps of the Holmes residence, John knew he was not being foolish. For the first time since the war, he felt his blood thrum through his veins. And when he undressed and finally lay down to sleep, he slept knowing that the next day would bring a challenge.